


Love Letters

by naturesinmyeye



Series: Flower Series - Choose Your Own Bouquet Tumblr Thank Yous [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adorable, Angst, Drama, F/M, Gift Fic, Romance, all the ansgt, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 09:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5086237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturesinmyeye/pseuds/naturesinmyeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 of 5 in the Flowers thank you challenge for recalcitrantphilistine. The flowers they chose for their bouquet were primrose (I can't live without you), zinnia (thinking - of a past friend) and amayrillas (pride).</p><p>A terribly romantic angsty one shot. </p><p>If Sansa hadn't smashed into him, causing him to lose hold on the letters he carried, she might have never known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [recalcitrantphilistine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/recalcitrantphilistine/gifts).



__

“Sandor!” Sansa called after his retreating form. But it was too late. He was already around the next corner and by the time Sansa made it there he had disappeared. She fidgeted with the paper in her hands while she bit at her lip. It had stuck to the bottom of her shoe and he’d missed it as he hastily grabbed at the other papers that had scattered upon the ground. She ought to leave it folded up and return it to him. But the temptation to read what he’d written was too great. There was a touch of reverence in her movements as she gently unfolded the note. It appeared to be a letter addressed to her. The date at the top was almost three months ago.

__

_~~Lady Sansa Stark~~ _

_~~Dearest Sansa~~ _

_Lady Sansa_

Then it was an array of words, scrawled drawings of birds and bits of what looked to be . . .poetry? Or at least an attempt at poetry. Sansa was dumbstruck. She could hardly believe the chaotic mess of feelings he’d written down on paper.

 

_Would it be that we were friends. . ._

_A lover wouldn’t be so ~~cold~~ blind._

_Red crown. Ocean eyes. Perfect lips. Soft hands._

_little bird    Little Bird ~~LITTLE BIRD  Lady Clegane~~_

__

_I never should have left you. I had to. I’m sorry._

_Useless cur._

And there was more! Much more! The last line put tears in her eyes. He _did_ have feelings for her! Many feelings for her and not enough for himself. And if the paper she now folded neatly back up spoke true, the ones he had for her ran just as deep as her own for him.

 

There had been dozens of such papers that had spilled out of his satchel. Dozens! Did they all contain the same sort of words; words that he had clearly meant for her yet had never given. If she hadn’t been so careless, walking around that corner blindly and running straight into him, would he have ever shown this side of him to her?  

 

Resolution struck her hard. She would confront him. She would make him acknowledge his letter and gift him with words of her own.

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………..

 

At the final meal of the day he was forced to come out from hiding and stand guard at the high table. During the last course of fruit and iced rolls, she bid him over to her. Sandor made an agitated noise in his throat but did as she indicated and stood near. Sansa waved her hand for him to come closer still. He scowled and looked as wretched as a wet cat but still he obeyed and leaned down to put his face near hers.

 

“After supper, I will see you in the library,” she spoke softly. There was a flash of confusion in his eyes. Then he nodded and stepped back to his place in line amongst the house guard.

 

He made her wait half an hour. Two glasses of wine after she’d first entered the library he finally came to her. Sandor was still dressed in his full armor, sword at his side. Did the man _ever_ relax?  Sansa remained seated at the great oaken desk of the library and offered him a glass of wine. He shook his head.

 

“The Lady asked me here for more than wine,” he said abruptly. “I’d like the reason done with sooner rather than later.”

 

“Why are you so hateful towards me?” Sansa accused. She was tired of this game of his. “Might I remind you that _you_ were the one to come crawling out of the woods half a year ago, spouting off loyalties and kneeling before Bran, swearing your sword to me. You disappeared for four years. Four years, Sandor! And I remembered you! I remembered and wept and kept myself untouched, living off your memory.”  Sandor’s eyes had gone wide as saucers and still she pressed on, the thrill of saying all the secrets between them spurring her on.  She rose from the table holding his note to her breast with a closed fist.

 

“I try to speak with you and you act as if we’ve never met. Do you think I don’t know what singing is by now? Or what you really came for that night the water burned?”  His eyes were blazing fury. She was in dangerous territory but she couldn’t stop now.

 

“Are you that prideful you would deny writing it?” Sansa asked, slamming the note into his chest. Dismay was apparent in her voice. She saw his eyes look at her then. There was sadness there. Anger and hate had melted away and been replaced with the lost look of a boy. It wasn’t pride holding him back Sansa realized; it was fear. And still his fingers remained at his side, the note pinned to his armor by her hand.

 

“If you won’t take this one” -she reached back over to the desk she’d been seated at to grab something-“perhaps you will accept these instead.”

 

She held a packet of letters tied together with blue ribbon out to him. Some were white and some were starting to yellow. Some were intact. Others were wrinkled or sported ripped corners from when she had been forced to hide them in haste. Sandor eyed them with suspicion.

 

“Take them,” she bid him, thrusting the bundle at his chest. She let go of them and he quickly moved to catch them before they fell to the ground. Sansa could see the knot in his throat bob as he pulled on the ribbon binding the sheets of parchment together. He lifted one to his face, read the first line and grabbed for another. And another. And another. He stumbled, his legs hitting the back of a chair, where he crashed, as his eyes frantically scanned over the contents of one of the letters.

 

There were years worth of them. She hadn’t been able to save every single one she’d written. Some had to be burnt, some torn to unreadable scraps and others became lost to her over the twists and turns of her life since King’s Landing. But each one bore the same name at the top. His true name.  Sansa crept closer to read over his shoulder.

 

_Sometimes I feel as if I can not live without you. Sometimes it feels I’m so very close to being allowed inside you. Then the next moment you shut me out. If you let me in I promise never to leave . . ._

Sandor placed the note down on the table. Was that a tremble she saw in his hand? There were still many left he had not yet opened. He looked at them for a long time before turning his head up at her.

 

“Do you mean it?” he rasped. Sansa wondered if she’d ever heard him speak so quietly before.

 

Her mouth was dry and she had to take a moment to form her words. There was hope and trust and _yearning_ in his eyes.  Lifting her hand, slowly, she brought it to his cheek before inching her face forward towards his.

 

“With all my heart,” she whispered, sealing her promise with a kiss.

 


End file.
